Hillsborough Historic Preservation Commission won't let family de-designate their late parent's home
Ah, life's little ironies.
The same Hillsborough commission that okayed the demolition of the Doris Duke residence a few months ago because it wasn't historically relevant is now saying an obscure farmhouse can't be removed from the township's historic sites list - limiting the options of the family that wants to sell it.
Where to begin? Maybe in the early 1800s, when the brick farmhouse was built off Amwell Road in the Neshanic area of what today is Hillsborough Township. "Brick" is the operative word. It was somewhat rare for the time period, a sign that the homeowner had wealth.
In 1821, the old farmhouse was inhabited by Dr. Gabriel Ludlow, pastor of the new Neshanic Reformed Church. The house became known evermore as "Dr. Gabriel Ludlow Parsonage" in Hillsborough lore.
Nothing against Pastor Ludlow, but Sandy Jaakobs - one of three sisters who asked the town to remove the house from the "historic" rolls - was struck by this little piece of irony when the commission denied the request. The commission held the hearing in the township government chambers, where a large portrait of Doris Duke hangs on the wall.
"I thought, 'Where's the picture of Gabriel Ludlow?' " Jaakobs said. "How come he's not on the wall?"
Jaakobs is the daughter of Alex and Lotte Schregenberger, who came to the United States in the 1950s, and bought the farmhouse and surrounding 66 acres in 1973. Alex Schregenberger was the director of engineering for Ross Air Systems in Somerset, but the family also ran a farm.
"My father was a hard worker," said Yvonne Barberio, another of the Schregenberger daughters. "He fixed the place up and we learned how to maintain it. I remember us three girls replacing the roof on the chicken coops. Two of us became engineers."
The family boarded horses, raised Hereford beef cows and chickens, had fields of hay and rented other fields to farmers who grew corn and soybeans.
Alex Schregenberger died in 1995. Lotte stayed in the house until her death in 2012. Soon after, their daughters began trying to sell the property.
"We had no idea it was on a historic list," Barberio said. "We found out from a potential buyer. My parents kept fastidious records and we never saw any evidence it was on a historic list."
"It scared (the buyer) off," Jaakobs said. "They questioned whether there would be restrictions on what they could do with the property."
The sisters began to research which "historic list" the house was on. It didn't show up on national, state or even county registries. It was just on Hillsborough's. They don't know how it got there, or who put it there. They only knew they wanted to take it off.
Barberio and Jaakobs went to the township and were told they had to appear before the Historic Preservation Commission in order to have the house removed from the local registry.
"We would like to see the house preserved," Jaakobs said. "It's our childhood home. But trying to find a buyer willing to take on such a restoration really limits our options."
"What we really want," Barberio said, "is for the new owners to be able to do whatever they want with the property."
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Fair enough. And that would include tearing it down. Except the township Historic Preservation Commission must first give the okay for demolition of historic properties before the town issues tear-down permits.
The commission did exactly that last October, when it voted 6-1 to let the Duke Farms Foundation demolish the residence of famed industrialist James B. Duke and his socialite daughter, Doris.
A group of citizens made several legal challenges, but in March, bulldozers and grappling claws reduced the historic mansion to splinters and plaster dust.
With that decision in the recent backdrop, Barberio, Jaakobs and their sister, Carol Magengast, who lives in Florida, didn't think the commission would dig in on their parent's old farmhouse.
"I thought, 'If they let the Duke mansion be torn down, how on earth can they stop us from de-registering our house?' " Jaakobs said. "Again, we're not saying we want the house torn down. We love the house. But we also want to sell it."
The sisters tried to make their case, following the commission's instructions.
"We had to send 30 registered letters to neighbors and utility companies," Barberio said. "Not a single person showed up to object."
Contrast this to the Duke decision, when about 100 people came to several meetings to object and formed a group that unsuccessfully tried to stop the demolition in court.
Life's little ironies.
According to the town's land use and development laws on historic sites, the criteria for historic preservation include whether the public is adversely impacted by the loss, be it emotional or scenic. In other words, a landmark church or stage stop on a main road that shaped the town's identity would be held more sacred that an out-of-the way private home. You'd have thought the Duke mansion would qualify.
Certainly, the sisters knew their property was no Duke mansion. No one toured it, no one trespassed to photograph it. It can't even be seen from the road, except in the dead of winter.
"We argued that either the modernization or demolition of the home would have no negative impact on the public," Barberio said. "No one even knows it's here."
And while the $2 billion Duke Foundation successfully argued their mansion was in disrepair and beyond restoration, and that it was a hodgepodge of insignificant architectural add-ons over the years, the sisters could not convince commission of either. Instead, the commission ruled the "house was in good condition, considering its age" and that "renovations can be performed in a manner consistent with the structures historical significance."
But the main reason for the denial, according to the commission's official denial resolution, is that the farmhouse is only one of four brick homes of that age in the township. This fact was mentioned not once, but twice.
On the flip side, there was only one Doris Duke mansion.
But who's counting?
Mark Di Ionno may be reached at mdiionno@starledger.com. Follow The Star-Ledger on Twitter @StarLedger and find us on Facebook.